


A Terrible Death to be Talked to Death

by irismon



Category: Young Wizards - Diane Duane
Genre: Camp Half-Blood AU, F/M, I am incredibly proud of this title, I will be sad if no one understands the joke, Originally Posted on Tumblr, like a year ago, so you may have seen it before
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-22
Updated: 2014-08-22
Packaged: 2018-02-14 06:47:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2181963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/irismon/pseuds/irismon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Teamwork, Teamwork, Teamwork<br/>A Terrible death to die, a terrible death to die<br/>A terrible death to be talked to death, a terrible death to die<br/>Teamwork, Teamwork, Teamwork</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Terrible Death to be Talked to Death

**Author's Note:**

> So IDK why I didn't post this here in the first place, but a year after first writing it I'm still happy with the way it came out, so here you go. The title and the summary are a spoof of the announcements song, which you may never have heard if you're a loser who never went to summer camp. It was too good an opportunity to pass up.

Dairine had been thrilled that Chiron put her in charge of fortifying the camp’s defenses. That is, until she had seen who she would been working with.

“You seriously want to put Greek fire that close to the forest?” Dairine stared disbelievingly at Roshaun. They were standing on opposite sides of the ping-pong table in the Big House, maps of the camp in various shapes and sizes covering nearly every inch of the green surface. “You do realize how unstable that stuff is, right? The whole forest could go up in flames, and take the dryads with it!”

“The Hephaestus Cabin is well versed in the making and care of Greek fire,” Roshaun began, and Dairine repressed the frantic urge to strangle him on behalf of oak trees everywhere. _Athena give me patience,_ she prayed silently, _especially against arrogant sons of Apollo._

* * *

At the beginning of the third or so meeting, Dairine found a letter waiting for her at the Big House. She grinned when she saw the name on the return address: Betty Callahan.

“Excellent,” she said to herself. “I haven’t heard from mom in ages!”

“Athena writes you letters?” Oh, right. Dairine had forgotten Roshaun was in the room.

“My other mom,” she explained, “The mortal one.”

Roshaun didn’t say anything else, which was good, because the last person to make a comment about her parents had ended up missing three teeth, and Dairine knew half of the Aphrodite cabin would strangle her if anything happened to Roshaun’s “perfect face."

* * *

“So, how is your sister doing?”

Dairine looked up from where she was correcting the depths of the lake beds. Roshaun wasn’t quite looking at her, instead focusing on redrawing the boundaries of the forest, so his question was clearly nothing but small talk.

“Um, which one?” Dairine had about a million sisters in the Athena cabin, most of them away for the normal school year, and Roshaun could mean any one of them.

“Your step-sister. The one in Demeter cabin.”

“Oh, Nita? She’s fine. Doing well in school, no monster attacks.”

“Good, good.”

Neither of them said anything else for the rest of the meeting. Roshaun nodded to her when she left, and Dairine gave a small wave in return. A weird day, all in all.

* * *

Roshaun was waiting in the meeting room, his feet propped up on the table and a book of poetry open on his lap. Dairine was a few minutes late, but that hardly an uncommon occurrence, so he saw no need to worry.

The sound of tennis shoes on the wooden floors alerted him to his fellow camper’s approach, so he closed his book and placed it in his pocket. Roshaun turned to the door to say hello, and was momentarily shocked.

“Hey,” Dairine said, “Sorry I’m late. Cleaning day, you know how it goes.”

“Your hair,” he said.

Dairine’s fingers rose to brush the tips of her hair, now hanging a few centimeters above the edge of her earlobes instead of an inch past her shoulders. “Oh yeah,” she laughed. “It’s nearly summer again, so I figured I should get it cut shorter.”

“It looks good,” he said. Surprisingly enough, he meant it. 

* * *

"A little higher,” Roshaun said, helping the new camper adjust his hold on the bow. This week was Roshaun’s turn as an archery instructor, every Apollo camper’s least favorite chore. Impossibly enough, this year’s beginners seemed even more hopeless than the year before.

One of his siblings tapped his shoulder. “Hey,” Ronan said, “Isn’t that Dairine?”

It was. She was headed towards one of the empty targets, no bow or arrows anywhere on her person.

“What,” Roshaun began, but then Dairine pulled out a bronze throwing dagger. She aimed at the target, breathed in, and threw. It hit the bull’s eye perfectly.

She threw four more daggers, each one making the center of the target effortlessly. Ronan whistled behind him, and Dairine turned her head. Roshaun’s face felt flush. She knew, now, that he had been watching her practice.

_Why is that such a bad thing?_ A traitorous section of his mind asked.

Dairine grinned mischievously and, without looking away from Roshaun, threw her last dagger. It hit dead center.

As the breath left his lungs, Roshaun thought, _Right. That’s why._

* * *

The camp sing-along was practically a roar tonight, with everyone excited by the beginning of the summer. Dairine’s hands were sticky with s’more residue, her hair was frizzy, and her face was tingling with an afternoon’s worth of sunburn.

Roshaun caught her eye from across the amphitheatre. He looked even more golden than usual in the firelight, his hair draped messily over his shoulders. He smiled at her, and Dairine smiled back, conscious of the lightness developing in her chest.

* * *

Roshaun was enjoying a quiet, relaxing canoe ride across the lake when he noticed something dark under the surface of the water. At first, he dismissed it as one of the nymphs, but the dark spot grew bigger and bigger. He leaned over slightly, trying to get a good look, and earned a splash in the face.

Roshaun groaned and wiped his face dry with his shirt, then turned to look at Dairine. He frowned at her, but there wasn’t any malice in it, and it quickly turned into a smile as she began to laugh. She grabbed hold of the side of the boat, and for a second Roshaun thought she might be foolish enough to try and climb in, but then she pushed, turning the canoe over and sending Roshaun toppling into the lake. He resurfaced in the hollow under the upside-down canoe, and grabbed hold of both sides to keep from getting dragged down by his clothes. Dairine came up across from him and laughed.

She swam closer, and Roshaun thought she was going to say something, but instead she pushed forward and kissed him. As she went to pull back, Roshaun let go of the sides of the canoe and followed her, taking Dairine’s head in his hands and deepening the kiss. She pulled her hands from the water and ran them through his hair. Underneath the lake water, she tasted like cinnamon gum. The two of them broke apart when their heads fell underwater, nothing holding them up any longer. Roshaun haled himself up and grabbed the side of the canoe again, Dairine resurfacing a few feet away.

“Perhaps we should continue this somewhere dryer,” he said, and she laughed.


End file.
